


When You Learn

by TheLostSister



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Jopper, Missing Scene, Season 3, momma joyce has to care for poor broken hop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 18:49:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20912396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLostSister/pseuds/TheLostSister
Summary: "Where are my clothes?"My take on the missing scene from season 3 of what happened to Hopper’s clothes and why Joyce finally decided to take him up on the offer of a date.





	When You Learn

If Joyce could get him all the way out of Hawkins Lab and into the car, then she knew they could make it just the few feet to get inside Hopper’s cabin.

She took a breath and looked over at him in the passenger seat. It wasn’t going to be easy. Hopper seemed to be getting in worse shape by the minute, and when they finally arrived, he was barely even conscious.

She braced herself and got out of the car. She quickly moved to open his door, hoping he would come around at least enough to get out on his own, but he didn’t even wake up. She shook his shoulder gently, knowing there were very few places left uninjured on his body.

He came to with a groan, blinking twice before finally focusing on Joyce enough to realize that the car was stopped, and she had expected him to get out.

_Fuck_, it hurt.

_Everything hurt_.

Even breathing was a chore.

“Jim…” he heard her call, trying to gain his attention.

He couldn’t verbally reply, but he turned his body sideways, enough to at least plant his feet on the ground outside to climb out. He steadied himself against the vehicle. It was still pouring rain, but it didn’t matter anyway; they were both already completely, soaking wet.

Joyce gave him a few seconds to breathe, but a lightning bolt cracked, and the wind knocked a large branch down near them.

“We need to get you inside,” she told him softly.

She forced his arm up and over her shoulder, allowing him to lean onto her for support. Joyce wrapped an arm around his back and slowly they made their way to the porch steps. There were only a few, but Joyce nearly fell over from the pressure he needed to put on her in order to make it up them.

Inside, the cabin was dark, and she searched for the first light she could find. Hopper leaned against the wall near the front door, while Joyce went to El’s empty bedroom.

“Where is El? Is she supposed to be home?”

He only replied with a slight groan before stumbling against the wall and into the bathroom.

She quickly followed him in, but he was already dry swallowing a hand full of pills.

“Hey, careful, Hop. What are those?” She grabbed the prescription bottle from his hand. There was no label.

“Drugs. Pain,” he mumbled.

“And how many did you just take?”

“Some.”

He leaned forward against the sink, closing his eyes.

“Hop,” she chided, hoping he hadn’t already overdosed himself in his confusion.

“Less than what I used to,” he clarified honestly.

“Okay,” she relented, softening just a bit.

This was the first time she was able to thoroughly look him over in the light. There was blood all over his face, and he was soaking wet. His shoes had tracked mud into the bathroom.

“We need to get you out of these wet clothes,” she told him. He stepped back from the sink and immediately attempted to bend over to untie his shoes. With a painful groan, he collapsed to the floor, sinking back against the bathtub before Joyce even had time to help him.

“Hey, hey, take it easy. Let me help you,” she scolded him, kneeling on the floor next to him.

His breaths came out audible and heavy.

“You should go home, Joyce. I’ve got it,” he mumbled, briefly closing his eyes.

Joyce was pretty sure he’d still be here soaking wet on the floor in the morning if she left him now. It was clear that he did not ‘have it.’

“Stop it. I’m not leaving,” she told him sternly. Instead, she untied his wet boots and set them to the side. He laid back, giving up. He didn’t want Joyce to feel like she had to take care of him, but he didn’t have much fight left.

She pulled a towel off a hook and wet one of the corners, gently wiping away some of the blood on his face to see how bad he was cut. Once the majority of it was cleaned up, she realized the actual wound itself wasn’t as horrible as she had been expecting. There were only two cuts, one on his forehead and one across his lip. However, there were already bruises forming along his neck, and Joyce understood that most of his injuries weren’t even visible yet.

Joyce unbuttoned his uniform, easily sliding it off his arms. Getting his undershirt off was more of a struggle. When it was finally off, Hopper leaned back against the tub, exhausted.

“We should probably take your pants off too,” she said out loud, though he was barely even conscious anymore. His eyes had closed again, and he was making unintentional, soft noises that gave away just how much pain he was in.

She unlatched his belt buckle and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, though she wasn’t going to be able to get them off of him until he stood up. Plus, once he was up, she wanted to get him into a place that was slightly more comfortable than the bathroom floor.

She didn’t bother telling him that she would be right back. Instead, Joyce went to his bedroom, grabbing a pillow, a blanket, and the top sheet off his bed. She laid them out on the couch and then went back to find some dry clothes for him. The basket on top of the washing machine appeared to be full of clean clothes, so she pulled out a t-shirt and dug through his dresser for a pair of comfortable pants.

Joyce brought the clean clothes in and sat them on the countertop. She took a breath, trying to muster up the strength she knew it would take to get him out of his pants, into new clothes, and out to the couch.

“Hop, hey, Jim,” she called, trying to wake him back up.

He only answered with a bit of a louder groan, but she knew that meant he was at least somewhat conscious.

“Gotta get you up, okay?”

With one arm around his back, she helped him stand. He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned against her, while she tried to remove his pants the best she could with one hand. 

His wet underwear clung to them and accidentally came down with his pants, rolling up in the fabric so that it would be next to impossible to undo with one hand while also holding Hopper up. His pants hit the floor and he seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he was standing there completely nude now, while Joyce silently swore to herself.

She hadn’t meant to strip him out of _everything._

And oh god, was she the worst friend ever for taking one quick, curious glimpse down?

She glanced back at the pile of clean clothes on the counter. Hopper was putting almost all of his weight against her, and she realized that physically getting him into new clothes at this point was not going to be an option. Instead, she helped him lift one foot at a time out of his pants and they slowly walked over to the couch. She laid him down and quickly pulled the sheet up to his waist. Though she tried hard not to, her eyes had traveled up with it. She knelt down on the floor next to him, resting one hand on his forearm just to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

Eventually Hopper’s ragged breathing slowed over the next few minutes until he was completely out again. Joyce let out a heavy sigh and stood up from the floor.

She went into the kitchen and filled a glass of water for herself and found a note from El laying on the counter. It said she was sleeping over at Max’s house for the night. That was at least one less worry she had now.

She filled a second glass of water for Hopper and sat it down on the floor next to the couch. She knew she couldn’t in good conscience leave him alone tonight, but she was also soaking wet and had no clothes of her own to change into. She went back to his bedroom and found a plaid, black and white button up that would be decent enough for her to wear while she dried her own clothes in the dryer.

She changed out of her clothes and then collected Hopper’s wet ones from the bathroom floor. Not entirely sure if his uniform was dryer safe, she hung them out on the front porch instead. The semi-cool, stormy summer air hit her bare legs, and she stopped to stand outside for a moment, realizing that she had been quite sweaty from the physical exertion. She listened to the rain for a few minutes while she finally caught her breath and tried to relax a little before going back inside.

Back in the cabin, Joyce nearly tripped on a bottle of aspirin that had been on the kitchen floor for some reason and so she brought that back over to the living room too, placing it next to his glass of water.

A dose or two of the mystery pain relievers that Hopper had taken in the bathroom probably wasn’t going to hurt him, but she didn’t want to be the one handing him pills that she didn’t even know what they were.

Joyce sat down on the chair next to the couch and curled her legs up under her. She stared back at him for a few minutes, trying to decide who would want to hurt him.

First off, they were at the lab, so the list of possible subjects could be long. It may have been personal; it may have just been over the fact that they were intruding where someone felt they didn’t belong.

Either way, she got up and found a piece of paper to write down the numbers and letters of the attacker’s license plate before she forgot them. Maybe it would be helpful.

She sat back down, and an hour or so went by before Joyce was finally feeling safe enough to drift off to sleep. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out when a sort of rustling from the couch woke her up.

Hopper was awake, but still laying down. He was, however, staring at her with a rather intent and quizzical expression.

He looked down at himself one more time and then back at her.

“Uh, did we…?” he asked cautiously.

“Did we what?”

Joyce was completely oblivious to his implication and the fact that he had no idea what had happened, or why Joyce was in his shirt and he was laying on the couch without any clothes on.

“You know…” he raised his eyebrows suggestively in question the best he could.

She immediately shook head no with a laugh when she realized what he meant, and she glanced at the clock. He’d only been out for two hours, but she assumed now that the pain meds he took were some type of narcotic and that they had fully kicked in now.

“Oh.” The disappointment in his tone was clear. “Well, do you want to?”

She couldn’t stop another laugh, but answered, “You are hardly in any condition for that.”

“I don’t mean now. I mean, well, you know,” he paused briefly before seriously adding, “Someday.”

Joyce realized that he wasn’t totally kidding but chalked it up to him being in a drug induced, confused haze.

She waited a moment before she replied. “What’s funny is,” her voice was soft and contemplative. “If I said yes, by tomorrow I don’t think you’ll even be able to remember this conversation,” she finished with a sympathetic smile.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“The off chance that you actually _do_ remember.” She smiled again, gently teasing the poor guy.

He let out a breath that sounded like a slight laugh too and then went quiet for a few minutes.

When he didn’t immediately drift off back to sleep, Joyce got up and his eyes trailed over her bare legs. She crouched down next to him.

“How do you feel? Are you in a lot of pain?”

He didn’t answer, but just stared at her face for a few seconds instead.

“You’re pretty.”

Joyce rolled her eyes and sighed.

“What?” His eyelids fluttered heavily. “You are,” he repeated as they closed.

“And you’re delirious,” Joyce argued quietly.

She noticed that Hopper’s forehead was wet with sweat, so she got up and found a wash cloth to run under cool water.

“Maybe,” he agreed, not knowing that she had even walked away. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.” She knelt back down and put the cool rag against his forehead. Hopper forced his eyes back open. “I know sometimes I can be… a dick. But I’m only mean to you because I really like you. Deep down, I’m just an eight year old boy.”

“Then I’m going to tell you what I told my boys when they were sick at 8 years old. You need to rest,” she said, using her mom voice.

He managed a slight smirk but closed his eyes again anyway. Joyce sat next to him for a few minutes while his breathing evened out again. She flipped the rag over so that a fresh, cool side was against his skin. That seemed to briefly wake him up, though he didn’t open his eyes.

“Joyce Byers…”

She didn’t reply as he was practically asleep.

“I think…I think I’m in love with you.”

Joyce bit her lip and looked up to the ceiling. Hopper was clearly intoxicated and had an obvious head injury. So him saying something like that shouldn’t make her heart stop like it did.

She sat next to him holding the rag against his forehead for a few more minutes, until she no longer felt like she was going to need a cool rag on her head too. By then, Hopper had fully drifted off back into unconsciousness. Joyce stood up and went into his bedroom, pulling her clothes from the dryer. She changed back into them and had to almost immediately sit down. Now it was her turn to feel light headed.

She told herself over and over again that his words meant nothing, but she couldn’t get them out of her head. The way he stared at her earlier, and not even just tonight- he had looked at her like that a lot lately. Of course Joyce couldn’t possibly know it now, but it was also how he would look at her for the last time from across the room in just over 36 hours.

It was almost like, well, almost like she was the most beautiful person in the world_. _

_Like he was completely in love with her_…

Sometime near 4 AM she woke up to Hopper dry heaving. She grabbed the first large pot she could find in the kitchen and stayed by his side, slowly running her fingertips over his bare back until he was finished. He drank some water and took a few aspirins, as the meds from earlier were starting to wear off. It also seemed like new bruises appeared on his skin every time she looked at him.

The next time he came to, it was more of the same. Joyce had been in the kitchen making herself a cup of coffee when she heard him wake up. She came rushing towards him, kneeling down on the ground next to him with a soft, “Hey.”

She could immediately tell that he was already more coherent than he had been the rest of the night.

“Joyce,” he whispered, staring at her like he was trying to remember something.

Or maybe she was just reading into it too much. But she didn’t have much time to think about it because he started retching again, this time vomiting all the water from earlier that morning.

“Here,” she said, grabbing the aspirin bottle and pouring a few more pills into her hand.

“How long have I been out?”

“Awhile. You’ve been drifting in and out.”

“Yeah, but how did I get here?”

“Slowly,” she explained, while he swallowed the pills. She wouldn’t be able to function around him without asking the next question. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Some thug attacked me,” he said, leaving out any trace of the conversations and events from the last night.

Maybe he truly didn’t remember any of what he had said the night before. Joyce felt herself almost wishing that she wouldn’t be able to remember any of it either. She wasn’t ready for someone to love her again.

And Hopper?

He was the one person holding her together.

She believed that a relationship would just ruin everything they had. Though if Joyce were to be completely honest with herself, she was in absolute denial about the fact that they already _were_ in a relationship with each other.

Hopper sat up on the couch, as though he were ready to go about his day as usual.

“Hey, you need to rest,” Joyce instructed, placing a gentle hand on his forearm to stop him.

“No, I’m fine. I’m fine,” he repeated stubbornly.

Maybe she should have given him more of the mystery pills. He was certainly easier to manipulate when he took those.

“No, you’re not fine Hopper,” she argued as he rose to stand up. The sheet fell to below his waist before he caught it in front of him, only now realizing that he was somehow completely naked.

Obviously flustered and a bit embarrassed, Joyce quickly looked away. However, she did manage one quick glance back at him, only long enough to see that the sheet was barely doing its job of covering him up. 

**“Where are my clothes?”**


End file.
